


Night Angel

by ElDiablito_SF



Category: Lost Boys (1987)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Vampires, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 00:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2793689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revenge is best served cold, and David knows a thing or two about revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/gifts).



Even in the dim light of the pulverized house, everyone could see David looked like an angel. A fallen angel, yes, but an angel none the less. Even with those grotesque antlers protruding out of his chest, something about the curve of his lips, the soft flutter of eyelashes against his pallid cheek, in death he had attained a new beauty. 

And, for a moment, Michael felt regret. Right before the realization that nothing had changed began to gnaw at him, drawing his attention away. Away from David’s eternally peaceful face.

***

Michael Emerson had not aged well. Nor easily. Sure, he still had the piercing blue eyes and the chiseled cheekbones of yesteryear, but he’d lost something that no amount of pampering and rehab could ever bring back: his boyish charm. And David supposed he had himself to blame for at least a part of that, as well. The vampire carefully licked a stripe down one of his own incisors as he contemplated the man before him from behind a newstand.

Killing Star had been easy. So many years and miles away from Santa Carla, how could she have ever expected it? And as they say about revenge, served cold, etc, like hors d’oeuvres. Chilled, you know, like a good champagne, and, if done correctly, just as deliciously bubbly. Star had been - so bubbly. David’s eyes narrowed in remembrance of that pleasure.

It was personal, you see. No, not because Star had betrayed him, betrayed all of them, chosen Michael above him, led to the destruction of the entire gang, etc., etc. All that - no, water under the proverbial bridge. But the thing was, Michael was supposed to be _his_ , and _that_ , stealing his new favorite toy… Oh that, David could never forgive. 

_Michael_. Oh, how David had loved the sound of the boy’s name on his lips. _Michael_. All bright eyes and windswept curls, like the archangel he’d been named after. Max told David not to play with his food, but what could you do? Boys will be boys!

And here he was now: Michael Emerson, his prey, after so long. But alone now. No little brother Sammy to protect him, no Uncle Grandpa, or whoever that old coot was, to drive in - stakes flying - to save his hide in the nick of time. Max had underestimated the Emersons, but he had also underestimated David. Bone does not equal wood. Fools, the lot of them.

He had to be at least somewhat clandestine flying up to Michael’s eighth floor apartment without being spotted, but having achieved what he hoped had at least been plausible deniability, he pried open the window and slid inside. In a few moments they would be alone. And then, his revenge would be complete.

The lights flickered on in the hallway as David pressed himself into the closest wall. He should’ve searched the apartment for obvious weapons. He regretted not taking more time with this, but, as his latest victim’s blood pumped and surged through his veins, he felt certain that if he had survived Michael once, he’d be able to do it again. At last, footsteps slowly echoed across the hallway and towards the bedroom. One set of footsteps, one heartbeat. 

Alone at last!

“Michael.”

_Beautiful boy._

What an odd thing to think after so many years apart? David felt a shiver run down his neck, even though Michael’s lips hadn’t even moved, but hearing his thoughts as clear as a bell in his mind had been sufficient. So the blood still worked, still bound them together, at least _this_ much.

“David… how are you...here?”

“Antlers are made of bone, you utter fucknugget.”

“But we shish kabobed Max.”

There was something deeply satisfying about the curiosity and wonder written across Michael’s features. He was profoundly interested in David’s story. And not a bit afraid. David cocked his head to the side and observed his prey closer.

“Mistake number two, my old bud: assuming Max had been my maker.”

“You mean he didn’t… you weren’t…”

“I’m much older and smarter than I appear, Michael.”

_Like an angel._

“Michael, really, tone it down a notch. Your thoughts are getting maudlin.”

In a blink of an eye, David had the human pressed up against his own wall, his breath a soft tickle against the vampire’s lips.

“Time to die,” David declared, forcing that chiseled jaw to the side to get proper access to the jugular pumping blood just beneath the surface of Michael’s drawn neck.

“Just you,” Michael muttered as David’s fangs sank with a satisfying hiss into his skin.

It was rude to speak with your mouth full, so David had to grudgingly pull off. “What did you say?”

“Just you. It had always been you.”

“That’s what you said to me before I decided to turn you - _just you_ \- you little imbecile, did you really think you could outmaneuver me?”

“Took Star because you didn’t seem interested.”

“You should’ve paid more attention to my body language,” and David pressed tighter against Michael, his erection unabashedly poking against the human’s thigh. A trickle of blood ran appetizingly down to Michael’s collarbones, and David felt obliged to lap it up with his tongue, before closing his eyes to savor it. “Mmmm… good vintage. Tastes better with age, Michael.”

“You haven’t aged at all.”

“In case you haven’t noticed - vampire.” 

David took an uncertain step back and wiped his hand across his mouth. He wished he’d brought a napkin. These things could be so uncouth and this wasn’t the 80s anymore. The twenty-first century called for more class and proper use of technology. He should’ve brought his extraction kit. Another thing to add to his list of regrets.

“I’m ready now.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t ready then. But I am now. I’ve _lived_ , David. I know what it’s like to feel the ravages of time. And I don’t need it!”

“Ah, so now you want something from _me_ , little ingrate. Eternal youth!”

“What’s left of it.”

To be fair, it wasn’t much.

“But that’s not all I want,” Michael added, taking a step towards the vampire. 

_Beautiful boy_. There it was again. David squinted at the man in front of him. For a few moments, he considered the full extent of his vengeance, and whether it would ever be completed, like this.

“Beg me, Michael,” he said, lips curling upwards in a lopsided grin.

When Michael sank down to his knees, he more than produced a cogent argument in favor of delayed, if not entirely indefinitely postponed, vengeance.

***

The Santa Carla boardwalk buzzed as if frozen in time. Michael and David strolled down the beach, their shoes held in their hands as their toes sank deeply into the cool, Pacific-soaked sand, their coat tails trailing in the wind.

“You’re ridiculously romantic,” Michael giggled.

“Just because I’d like us to drain someone together at the spot where we first met?”

“Well… yes!”

David pulled the other man closer, so he could better suck and nibble on his lower lip, tongue swiping in to draw closer and savor the taste of his lover. This Michael might not be as fresh, youthful, and nubile as the Michael Emerson he first met decades ago, but _this_ Michael was forever _his_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not your Yule Goat - this is a treat. Because there can never be too much Kiefer!


End file.
